Nineteen Eighty Six: A Year to Remember!
by ThisIsTheOnlyThingNotTaken
Summary: AU. Harry is sent back to his parents 6th year. Prroblem: they are still alive in his world, and favor his twin brother, Lukas. What happens When Harry meets Sevvy?


Disclaimer: I don't own anything that sounds familiar. The plot, though, is mine.

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Harry Potter woke up on September the first, ready to leave this hell hole called home. He couldn't wait to go back to school. At school, he was ignored, well, mostly. Kid's picked on him, bullied him, beat him up, and laughed at him. He was such an introvert that nobody even knew his name. They barely knew what his voice sounded like.

He was in Ravenclaw. That had been a hard decision for the hat. It was between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The had chose Ravenclaw 'for a change'. But, he _was_ the smartest student in his year, and most probably in the entire school. Nobody knew this, besides himself and the professors, though, because he didn't flaunt his knowledge.

Harry loved music. When he was upset, or depressed, or tired, he would listen to music. Music gave his life meaning. Simple Plan, Green Day, Metallica, All Shall Perish, Gwar, Eminem, anything, really. People thought he was crazy because he walked around humming. He would look outright crazy if he walked around singing.

Harry was sick of it. This year, his fifth, people were either going to know him, or not. He had filled out over the summer, gaining weight and muscle mass. His hair had tamed slightly, and his vision had gotten better over the years. He no longer needed glasses, unlike his brother and his ugly round monstrosities.

The train ride to Hogwarts was normal. Nobody bothered him, and he did the same. Harry mostly read while venturing to the ancient castle.

The train stopped, jerking Harry out of his slight doze.

Harry was a bookworm. He knew it, and could admit it. But, the idiot Gryffindor Granger was usually noted as the best in their year. They all believed Harry was second best to her. 'Bullshit,' thought Harry, 'they'll see.'

Harry got off the train. He got into a carriage, alone, and planned out his year. It was a rocky ride to the castle, not comfortable in the least. The castle was old and stony as ever, not gaining Harrys attention.

The inside was the same as it had been when Harry left two months ago. His photographic memory picking out every detail of everything. Harry sat by himself at the Ravenclaw table. The welcoming feast went on as always.

When Dumbledore finished his speech, the food appeared, and it got loud. Then oddly quiet. "Potter!" Harry ignored the call, assuming it was for his brother. "Potter, Harry!" Harry slowly looked around, seeing most of the Hall staring at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"We asked you what you got on your O.W.L.s! Granger got eighteen!" the Ravenclaw Head Boy said. Harry didn't answer immediately. "Well?"

"Thirty," Harry went back to eating. Now the Hall was completely and utterly silent.

"Thirty?"

"When did that loser get so smart?"

"He beat Ely Potter!"

"You think he cheated?"

"Of course he cheated!"

"He _couldn't_ have beaten _Granger_!"

Both of Harrys parents were new professors at Hogwarts. His father, James Potter, was the new defense against the dark arts teacher. His mother Lily Potter, was the new Charms teacher. They both looked shocked.

"You cannot cheat on an O.W.L, you ignorant imbeciles," Harry snapped. "I got twenty two because I'm taking eleven classes. An 'O' in all eleven would result in twenty two. I got bonus points in eight of my classes for various talents I have." Harry said, still not looking at anybody.

"What talents?" Ely asked, mocking him.

"I am an Animagus. I found two new constellations while taking the Astronomy test. I could accurately tell you why the first goblin rebellion took place, and where. I can produce two corporeal Patronus' at once. That counted in both charms and defense. I can translate the most ancient of runes into thirty two different languages, I invented a new plant that will help in potions, making the most powerful healing potion known to man. Eight, are you happy?" Harry asked.

"So, you're really smart?" a sixth year Ravenclaw asked.

"I have been the top of my year since the first day of my first year," Harry replied.

"No! I've been the best! Professor McGonagall! Tell him he's wrong!" Granger was standing and yelling now.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but it's true. He has always beaten you in all the exams. Harry Potter is at the top of your year. I do believe he is at the top of the seventh years also."

Two days later, Harry was forgotten again. Harry had not been chosen as prefect because nobody knew him. Flitwick said that nobody would take him seriously.

Harry stopped caring. He let his grades slip, and he just gave up. McGonagall held him back after class, looking angry.

"Mr. Potter, care to explain why you are not working up to your full potential?" she snapped.

"What's the point? Really, just give me one reason why I should care about my grades? There are two classes Ely are failing, yours and potions. Tell me, please, why he is passing the other ones, when he can't do half of the fourth year curriculum? This isn't school, it's a bloody popularity contest! He can't be in sixth year if he failed third, fourth and fifth year! This is utter bullshit! The only reason he's passing is because he's the supposed Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry stormed out of the room.

Minerva was confused. She had a free period at the time, so she went on her way to talk to the headmaster. He, of course, was ion the great hall, eating lunch. She made it halfway through the entrance hall, when it happened. Something that would surely go down in 'Hogwarts, a new and revised history'.

Ely and Harry Potter were brawling in the middle of the entrance hall. Harry was on top of his twin, and he pulled his fist back. Ely moved his head, the intended target of he punch, just in time for Harry to slam his fist into the stone floor.

There was the sickening sound of crushing, shattering bone. Yet worse was the sound, close to an explosion, of cracking stone. Minerva was sickened by that sound. She didn't want to imagine what would have happened to Ely's face, had he not moved.

Before anybody could do anything, a great column of white light surrounded the oldest Potter twin. The next second, he was gone. There was a shriek, and that came from Ely himself.

"Where'd he go?" roared the Gryffindor. "I'll pummel him! Where the fuck did he go!"

"Mr. Potter! That is no way to speak, especially when there are young children around!" Minerva said sharply. Ely jumped high enough to qualify for the Olympics. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"What? Fifty?" Ely yelled.

"Another fifty, because you are doing nothing for my already bad mood!" snapped Minerva. "Albus, what the hell just happened?"

Everybody was looking at Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster himself had a look so close to horror on it, that Minerva was afraid to hear the answer. Then, with about as much grace as stampeding rhinos, Albus Dumbledore fainted.

"Well, that was _enlightening_, Albus!" roared James Potter. "My son disappears into a beam of white light and you just bloody faint! Get me my son back!"

"Why, Potter?" Severus Snape snapped. "So you can torment him some more? So you can hold his brothers fame in front of him? Do you want your son back, or do you want your outlet back?"

"I've never-"

"Can it, Potter. I don't want to hear it," Severus stormed into the dungeons.

Harry came down, hard, face first, in a circular room he recognized immediately. The headmasters office. The man in question was sitting at his desk, looking more than a little shocked. Harry stood up.

What a sight he must have been. He was standing in just a loose fitting shirt that said 'Welcome to my Life' and tight-ish black jeans. His hair came to his chin, framing his thin, handsomely angular face. His robe had come off sometime during the fight. His nose was lightly bleeding, as was his lip.

His hand was another thing entirely. All of the bones from his elbow down had been turned to dust.

To top it all off, he had a killer headache. He was silent for a second, eyes traveling around the room.

"Um, sir, I've taken a bit of a fall, so do you think you could possible tell me the date, please?" Harry asked.

"September the third, nineteen eighty six. May I inquire as to who you are?" Dumbledore asked. He was twenty years in the past! Harrys mind whirled momentarily. He said the first name that came to mind.

"I'm Pierre Bouvier," it was the first name that came to Harry's head. It also happened to be the lead singer from his favorite band.

"Well, Mr. Bouvier, how did you come to land in my office? And in such a state?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, sir, I have no idea how I came to be here." Harry had instantly dispensed of his noticeably British accent. "One second I was at school, well, I was in the middle of a fight, and then I ended up here." Harry was now speaking in what he really desperately hoped sounded like a Canadian/French accent. "Other than that, I don't remember anything, sir." Blatant lie. Harry remembered everything about his life. Including the fact that this year would be his parents sixth year. Harry worked really hard to keep his triumphant smirk from showing.

"Well, child, this presents a problem. Do you know the name of your parents, or where you live?" Dumbledore asked. Man, was the leader of the light really this stupid?

"No sir." Harry said, trying to sound scared.

"Well, dear boy, we'll have to let you attend Hogwarts until we can find your parents. How old are you, exactly?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sixteen, sir. I was two days into my sixth year, sir." Harry said. His arm was becoming unbearable, now. The room was spinning, then everything went blank.

He woke up, what he assumed to be a while later. Three faces were peering down at him. This creeped him out a bit. His arm was throbbing.

"Mr. Bouvier?" asked who he knew to be Minerva McGonagall.

"Yes ma'am?" Harry replied softly.

"How much do you remember of your life before you ended up here?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her tone a mix between pitying and professional.

"Not much, man. I remember going to school, but I never had any friends. I was always bullied for being so smart. Even my parents made fun of me for it. They spoiled my twin all the time." Harry tried to convey as much desperation as he could in those few words.

"Your name is Pierre Bouvier?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded weakly. "Well, you can start classes tomorrow. We'll have you sorted at dinner tonight. What happened to cause the state of your arm?"

"My brother attacked me in the middle of the schools dining hall. I was defending myself. I tried to punch him, but he moved his head. My fist went two inches into the stone. I think I broke a few bones-"

"A few! You pulverized half of your arm! Honestly! You're worse than Potter and Black put together!" Pomfrey snapped.

"Excuse me, but, who?" Harry asked, fully knowing the answer. His dimwitted godfather, and fuckwit of a father were complete morons at school. Wait, they still are…

"Sirius Black and James Potter. They are our schools resident pranksters," Dumbledore said. He eyed Pierre closely. "You almost look like James, come to think of it. Are you related to the Potters at all?"

"The name does sound familiar. Really, though, he could be my brother and I wouldn't recognize him, sir." Pierre said.

Dinner came, and it was time for Pierre to be sorted. He knew now where he was going. "SLYTHERIN!" the hat yelled, once it touched his head. Pierre walked to the Slytherin table, and sat down.

Then he saw who he was sitting next to. Crap…

"Are you a mudblood?" Severus Snape asked him, nearly immediately.

"How dare you insult my noble bloodline with such a frivolous insult!" snapped Pierre. "I'll have you know that we Bouviers are pure all the way back, passed the third century!" He had to admit, he was a good actor.

"That is impossible! My family is pure back to the fifth century," drawled the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy. Harry/Pierre had not counted on him being there. Good thing he was a seventh year.

"You dare mock the name Bouvier?" demanded Pierre. He had read about pureblood traditions and customs.

"Not at all. Not at all," Malfoy said. They had been one step away from having a wizards duel.

"Excuse me, I have not heard your name yet," Pierre said to Snape.

"Snape. Severus Snape. You?" was the answer. Pierre had the strong urge to say 'Bond. James Bond.' He barely held it in.

"Bouvier. Pierre Bouvier," responded Pierre. Dinner was an unnaturally silent affair. Slytherins do not talk much, it seemed.

Snape and Pierre stood up at almost the same time. "I'll show you to the dorms, Bouvier."

They were, however, intercepted by none other than James Potter and Sirius Black.

"So! You're the new kid?" Black asked, loudly.

"You say that as if it is an accusation," deadpanned Pierre. Black scowled, that poor excuse of a scowl of his.

"You obviously haven't heard of us, then. I'm Sirius Black. This is James Potter." Black announced.

"Do you want a medal? Wait, Black? Didn't your mother go crazy? Isn't she in the psychiatric ward at St. Mungos? I hear that when you left the family in total disgrace, they let her out. Now I see why, you blood traitor," Pierre hissed, quietly so that only James, Sirius, and Severus could hear him.

"You little-" Black lunged at him, Harry sidestepped him, causing Black to fall on his face.

"Oh Merlin!" Pierre said, sounding shocked. "What's gotten into that poor fellow?" Snape shrugged, almost smirking. The two continued walked, and Harry continued, in a low tone, "insanity must run in the family, then."

The famous Bouvier-Black war began.

Harry, somehow, always got out of trouble. He had become close friends with Severus Snape, and they were on a first name basis now. That was a rare commodity in Slytherin. The two of them were sneaking around the castle, having stolen James Potters invisibility cloak.

They came upon the marauders talking about… them.

"Come on, Prongs, surely your parents will help! Your dad is the headmaster!" Black said, angrily.

"He can't, Padfoot! I have no proof! Stupid Slytherins!" Potter snapped, at the wall.

"Then go to your mum! She hates Slytherins!" Peter Pettigrew said, sounding hysteric.

"The day Minerva McGonagall takes advice from us is the day a Potter ends up in Slytherin." Harry smirked at Remus' statement. Just twenty years, then.

Pierre looked at Severus in horror. "His parents are Dumbledore and McGonagall?" Great, he had been told his grandparents were killed by death eaters.

"It would appear that way. Why is that so awful?" Severus asked.

"Potter is sixteen. That does not bring horrible mental images to mind?" Severus' face twisted into a disgusted grimace.

"Thanks, Pierre. Now I have that image in my head! That's the head and deputy head of my school! Gah!" Severus shivered "My innocent mind, ruined,"

"A little over dramatic?" Pierre laughed.

"Overdramatic? That is the most disgusting thing I've heard all year!" Severus snapped.

"Let's get the hell out of here," at Pierre's word, they turned and ran. Or, they tried to, at least, they ran headlong into Albus Dumbledore. "Whoops, not good." Pierre said.

"Watch where you're going!" snapped Severus, purely out of habit. They were both sitting on the ground, looking at Dumbledore.

"Fancy seeing you here, Headmaster." Pierre said smoothly. "Lovely night, don't you think? Great night for a midnight stroll. Don't you agree, Severus?"

"Couldn't agree more, Pierre," Severus said. "One _must_ wonder, however, how it is possible for such an old bloody man to have abs of _steel_." Severus rubbed his head, where it had collided with Dumbledore.

"Will you two please accompany me to my office?" Dumbledores voice was cold, very cold.

"Of course, headmaster," Severus and Pierre said. They followed him towards his office. Severus and Pierre had a silent argument behind the man, with much slapping and wild hand gestures.

Without realizing it, they were sitting in front of the headmasters desk.

"Wow, that went quickly." Pierre said, pointlessly.

"You dolt," Severus snapped.

"Gentlemen! Will you please tell me why you saw fit to roam the halls at two in the morning?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"Was that rhetorical?" Pierre asked. Severus was now glaring daggers at him. "Severus, I asked a perfectly logical question, and I expect a perfectly logical answer. Don't look at me like that," Harry snapped.

"No, that was not rhetorical, I want an answer," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, okay! See, we were in the dungeons, heading towards our dormitory, _before_ curfew, when we herd our names. Deciding to see what people were saying about us, we followed them. We found Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. They were discussing Severus and I, more specifically, planning on pranking us," Pierre took a deep breath. "But, in the end, we got some good blackmail material."

"Pierre, when you find yourself in a hole, stop digging!" snapped Severus.

"I _pay_ people to dig my holes, thank you very much," Pierre answered, with a grin. "To think, me, do something so, so menial," Pierre sneered.

"Twenty points from each of you, and two weeks of detention, to be served with me," Dumbledore said. Pierre nodded.

"And of Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew?" he prompted. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What about them?"

"Surely they are also in trouble for being out after curfew, sir?" Pierre asked, seemingly oblivious to Severus' warning looks. Dumbledore sighed, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the boy in front of him

"No," Dumbledore replied. Pierre raised an eyebrow.

"Showing favoritism, headmaster?" Pierre asked, his voice a mix of hurt, angry, and disappointed.

"I-" Dumbledore was interrupted by the door to his office flying open.

"DAD!"

"Oh no…" Dumbledore said.

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Idon't think I did a grand job of editing this... I'm in a hurry to post it, becuase i'm going out, and I want it out before I leave.

Review!


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